


I love to hear you cry

by imera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Edgeplay, F/M, Humiliation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/pseuds/imera
Summary: They’ve been waiting for months now, and it’s finally time. She will be used in an ancient ritual to enslave all Muggle Borns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Super old fic written for the 2012 samhain smut fest. There was a beta but I'm sure the fic has plenty of mistakes, but I try not to touch the old fics too much because then I won't be able to write new things.

The glow from the moon shone through the bars of Hermione’s cell, making the chilled room seem even colder than it already was. The hair on her skin stood up when she remembered what night it was, the last day of October, it was All Hallows Eve.

This was the night the veil between the living and the dead was the thinnest, and when magic was strongest. It was also the night when all Muggle-Borns would be enslaved, if the ritual did indeed work.

After she was captured and imprisoned, tortured and almost killed, they decided to use her for the ritual. She couldn’t understand why they chose her, but thought it might be because she was intelligent, and also because she was Harry’s friend.

Months has passed since the war ended, and the light lost, all because Dumbledore believed Harry was a Horcrux. Maybe he was, but he, like all the other Horcruxes, was destroyed beyond recovery. Hermione still remembered his limp body in Hagrid’s arms, she still remembered the way Voldemort spoke to them, and she still remembered the fight between the dark side and the light, and how they lost.

Ron was taken away to a boot camp as soon as they discovered he was a Pureblood, while she was sent to prison where they compared Muggle-Borns with filth.

She was starting to get used to her new life when a Death Eater informed her about the Ministry’s decision. Hermione snorted when she thought about the Ministry, which was more of a prison council than a political council. The scholars had found an ancient ritual which was created to enslave all the Muggle-Borns. When they first told her about it, she believed they had lost their minds, but soon discovered every word was true.

All the information she received was that she would not enjoy the ritual, something she was certain of from the first time they told her, and that the ritual was to be performed on All Hallows’ Eve. They were kind enough to inform her how many days she had left before the ritual, at least she was able to prepare herself mentally.

One single Death Eater entered her cell, ordering her to stand and place her arms behind her back. She knew protesting wouldn’t get her anywhere, so she obediently did as he ordered. Outside her cell were two other Death Eaters with their wands pointed at her; the ritual must be important since they decided she needed three guards.

When they were outside of the prison, which was a special prison for Muggle-Borns, two of the guards grabbed her arms and Disapparated.

When they landed, Hermione bent over, gagging from the extreme Apparation. Because she wasn’t fed much, there wasn’t anything left in her stomach. As soon as the worst was over and she was able to stand again, the Death Eaters pulled her with them towards a large entry.

She tried to see if she could recognize anything, but nothing looked familiar; nothing, except _him_. Dressed in a black Death Eater robe, he was standing, no, waiting for her. She could see on his face, by the way his lips twisted in a grin, sending shivers down her body.

All the other Death Eaters were standing in a ring around him, staring at her as she was brought in the middle. It wasn’t until they were near him that the Death Eaters who had brought her there released her, or rather threw her at his feet.

Hermione didn’t get a chance to sit up before a new pair of hands pulled her up. “Hello there, precious,” he mocked. Not wanting to be near the man that tortured her for weeks, she tried to twist herself away, but was too weak to manage anything. “What? Trying to get away from me already? We haven’t even begun our little game,” he said as he turned her around and pushed her chest down on a round stone table in the middle of the circle.

Opening her eyes, she recognized the runes that were carved around the edge. Before she was able to read any of them, her attention was drawn to Dolohov.

“Don’t you want to play little one?” Dolohov whispered from behind her as he yanked her arms until she was screaming in pain. A few Death Eaters laughed, which angered her. “You’ll help us save the purity, aren’t you proud?” Pulling her up, he turned her around until they were face to face. “Aren’t you proud of what you’ll help us accomplish?” he asked again.

Hermione could see he expected an answer, but she refused to give one. Instead she spit on his face. The Death Eaters either laughed or whispered, probably shocked she still dared to be disobedient and rude. She couldn’t care less, especially when she doubted she would live through the night.

Dolohov was of course not amused, and brutally slapped her across her cheek. The hit was so hard that even with him holding her, she still fell on the ground.

The taste of blood mixed with the saliva. Not wanting her mouth to be filled with blood, she spit it out. “Behave,” Dolohov said as he pulled her up again. “I’m not afraid to hurt a pretty girl,” he said as he let his thumb caress her cheek. She stared hatefully at him, wanting to smack his hand away, but knowing it would only lead her into more trouble.

Suddenly, he pushed the thumb into her mouth. Automatically Hermione turned her head away until Dolohov’s finger was out of her mouth. Gripping her jaw, he turned her head around until they were facing each other again. “What’s the matter? Don’t like my finger in your pretty mouth? You should know that by the end of this night you will have more than a finger in your pretty mouth.

Hermione’s eyes opened wide when she realised what he meant. Nervous, she turned her head around and stared at all the men standing around them. Dolohov used that moment to lean closer to Hermione until his lips were next to her ear. “Don’t worry, only I will be using you,” he whispered before biting her earlobe. Hermione tried to push him away, but with her arms still tied behind her back she wasn’t able to do much.

When he moved down to her neck and bit hard into her skin, Hermione wasn’t able to stay quiet anymore and screamed. “There you go, don’t be shy,” he whispered against her bruised skin. “I love to hear you cry.”

“No,” she screamed.

“Yes,” he replied while licking her neck. Before she was able to try and push him away, he grabbed her hair and brutally pulled her head to the side, giving him even more access to her neck.

When he was done, he grabbed her arse and lifted her up on the round table, placing her down on her back. “It’s time to start the ritual, don’t you think?”

“What will happen?” Hermione found herself asking, surprising both herself and Dolohov.

“What an interesting question,” he said as he let his hand trace her body, squeezing her breasts gently when he reached them. “The first part of the ritual is humiliation,” he said before starting to undo Hermione’s robes.

“NO!” she screamed while trying to roll off the table. She thought Dolohov would use magic to hold her back, but he ordered two of the Death Eaters to help him instead. One of the men held her shoulders, while the other grabbed her ankles. Desperately she tried to fight them, but they were strong, and she was weak after being imprisoned for so long.

Before she knew it, the top was undone and they were able to see her breasts. Closing her eyes, she pretended she was somewhere else while she tried to twist herself out of their grips. “Don’t be shy,” Dolohov said as he dug his nails into one of her breasts, making her cry.

He continued to undress her while she fought him, revealing her dirty and beaten skin while repeatedly commenting about her body. Tears ran down her face when she realised there was no chance for her to escape them.

“Be calm, or you’ll cut yourself,” Dolohov said when her robes were open, and her naked body was exposed. She didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help herself. What she saw then frightened her. Dolohov was holding a knife that looked extremely sharp in his hand. “Be a good girl and behave,” he said as he twisted it around and let the blunt edge scrape against her skin.

Shaking in fear, she watched the knife as he trailed her. Then he twisted it and let the side of the knife slightly and let the coldness of the knife rest against her skin, she gasped and unsuccessfully tried to move further away. She wanted to beg him not to cut her, but no words escaped her dry throat. The worst was when he let the knife trace her inner thighs, which were being held open by one of the Death Eater’s. Hermione would have tried to close her legs, but because she didn’t want to be cut, she couldn’t hide.

Dolohov was smiling as he let the blunt edge of the knife caress the lips between her legs, frightening Hermione even more. “Good girl,” Dolohov said before he let the knife push against her slit. As long as she didn’t move, and he didn’t twist the knife around, she wouldn’t be hurt.

“I wonder what will happen if I turn the blade,” Dolohov suddenly said, making Hermione tremble in fear.

He never did twist the blade, instead he removed it from between her legs. She thought she would finally be able to breathe again, but then he moved the knife up her body to her breasts. She watched the knife as the blade carefully traced her curves.

“Are you starting to enjoy this?” Dolohov asked. Hermione stared at him and tried to shake her head, but found it difficult to do when she feared the blade would cut her.

After another minute of scaring her, he pulled the knife away. She knew better than to believe the nightmare was over, especially since the ritual hadn’t begun yet.

Out from his robe, Dolohov pulled a collar and a leash. Hermione was no fool and knew who it was meant for. Not wanting to be forced into wearing it, she tried to wriggle her way out from the grips of the two Death Eaters. “Don’t worry; this won’t hurt, much,” he said. That comment caused a wave of laughter through the group of Death Eaters, humiliating her even more.

Moving next to her, he wrapped the collar around her throat, a little tighter than she thought was necessary. “Get up,” he growled when he was done, pulling sharply at the leash. Hermione yelped from the brutal tug. 

The two Death Eaters released her and she was finally able to move again, but not well with her arms still tied up behind her back. Even if her arms weren’t bound, and she wasn’t attached to the leash, she doubted she would get far away from Dolohov, or from the group of Death Eaters and their wands.

Dolohov took a hold of Hermione’s shoulder and pulled her off the table. She didn’t have a chance to prepare herself before she crashed against the hard ground. “Let’s get this off of you,” he said as he grabbed her robe. Using magic to cut the robe, he could easily pull it off her.

“Crawl,” he growled next to her ear as he removed the restraints around her wrists. She was glad she could use her arms again, but did not like the idea of crawling in front of the Death Eaters. Before she could look up at her captor, he pulled the leash and she fell forward. Her hand automatically went up to the collar, trying to loosen it. Dolohov pulled the leash again, making it more difficult for her to breathe.

“Crawl,” he repeated and pulled the leash once more. Not wanting him to pull the leash again, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was somewhere else. Dolohov’s voice cut through her concentration. “Don’t you look delicious? Wouldn’t you agree men?” Several Death Eaters agreed, which made her humiliation even worse.

When she suddenly felt strangers’ hands on her body she squirmed and tried to pull away, only to struggle breathing when Dolohov pulled the leash. “Don’t run away, they only want to feel you.” Hermione tried to hide her naked body as she stared at Dolohov. “Don’t be shy,” he said as he carefully pulled the leash. “You might be a Mudblood, but your body is good enough.”

Two masked Death Eaters walked over to her to touch her breasts. All Dolohov’s speech did was make her want to fight harder, and as soon as their hands were close to her she tried to bite and scratch them. “Such a bad kitty,” she heard Dolohov say before he pulled her leash, forcing her to stand up. Pulling out his wand, he spelled the leash to rise higher, choking her. While she struggled to keep the collar from cutting her air supply, the Death Eaters took advantage of the situation and touched her. She wanted to scream, but her struggle with the collar was more than enough to handle.

It wasn’t until they reached between her legs that she turned some of her attention back at them, not that it helped her much. At least she managed to kick several Death Eaters before they decided to grab her legs, and pulled them apart.

Hermione’s eyes widened when several fingers played with her entrance, dipping into her a few times before moving aside, letting others play with her. Hermione squeezed her eyes tight and groaned every time a finger painfully entered her.

Not all Death Eaters wanted to touch her in that way, some wanted to slap her, spit on her, or even pee on her. By the time Dolohov decided to move on, Hermione was struggling to see through her tears, but at least she didn’t have to fight the collar anymore.

While struggling to breathe normally again, she saw that Dolohov moved closer to her. “Humiliated?” he asked. Hermione turned away, not wanting to acknowledge his presence. She wasn’t able to ignore him for long before he grabbed her hair and brutally turned her head around. “Are you humiliated?” he repeated.

She was too scared to answer, or even nod her head. He did not appreciate her silence and pushed her face against the dirt. Unprepared, she ended up with dirt in her mouth. Spitting didn’t help either when he continued to hold her face down.

Her tears continued to flow as the humiliation continued. Death Eaters surrounded her, spitting and peeing on her, making her feel even more worthless than before. All she could do right then was to cover her face while she cried, hoping they were done soon.

“That will be enough,” she heard Dolohov say, and the Death Eaters stepped away. She felt a hand carefully pull her hand away from her face, and turn her head so their eyes met. “Are you humiliated?” he asked yet again. Not wanting the Death Eaters to continue, she nodded before the tears ran faster. Placing her forehead against the ground, she struggled to stay quiet while her whole body shook, both from the humiliation and the coldness from the wind when it touched her wet skin.

“Shhh-” Dolohov whispered as he caressed her hair. “This isn’t so bad,” he continued.

For a few seconds she almost believed things would be better, but then remembered they were Death Eaters, and she a Muggle-Born, and that nothing could end well for her.

She was right of course. Not even ten seconds later Dolohov pulled her up and placed her on the stone table again. Still shaking from the coldness, she looked around and spotted nothing but Death Eater masks in dark robes. Her position was horrible, but it wasn’t until Dolohov moved between her legs that she began to be nervous. What she noticed then was how intensely he was staring at her, his twisted face grinning, like he was pleased.

A movement caught her eyes and she looked down at his hands. A cold feeling passed through her when she realised he was unbuttoning his trousers. Knowing what he was thinking about doing, she tried to crawl further away from him, but had to stop when she felt a large hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t run away,” Dolohov said with a grin. Scared, she tried to move away again, and the same hand stopped her. Looking over her shoulder she was met by a masked face, which only frightened her even more. Pushing his robe off his shoulders, and his trousers off, Dolohov revealed his naked body. His smile only widened when he crawled up on the table and moved above her. Hermione’s breathing increased and her blood pumped faster, she knew what he was thinking, and it scared her.

“Open up,” he whispered while placing a hand on her leg. She was too scared to do anything, even when he grabbed her thighs and pulled them open. She noticed his cock was already hard, which she hoped was because of a potion and not because of the situation.

It wasn’t until he pulled her closer she woke up and fought again. Her behaviour earned her several smacks across her cheeks. She screamed while unsuccessfully trying to scratch him, her eyes blurred yet again by her tears. “Scream all you want sweetheart, nobody will help you.” His voice sent cold shivers down her body, making it difficult for her to breathe, as well as move. And still, she continued to fight. “Bind her,” Dolohov ordered the Death Eater without taking his eyes off Hermione. The Death Eater used his wand and used magic to pull her arms to the sides and tie them there.

When she felt his cock against her entrance, she gasped loudly. His intense stare burned into her, keeping her still as he slowly pushed into her, filling her up. Her gasps turned into groans when he forcefully pushed the remaining of his cock into Hermione. Not wanting to see him, she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, not that it helped with the sickening feeling that ate through her body.

After the fifth time he pushed into her she could hear a strange chanting coming from around her. At first she didn’t pay any attention since every movement Dolohov made was sickening and she tried to block everything out, but their voices continued to break into her mind.

 _This is it,_ Hermione thought to herself. She never had a chance to get out of the situation before, but now there was no way back.

Dolohov moved faster as the volume of the chanting increased, and after a minute of the combination, something strange was starting to happen. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her blood boiled, her skin felt like it was melting away, and her bones felt like they were trying to cut through her skin.

She feared the pain would increase until she ended up dead, but when she thought she couldn’t last any longer, the pain turned into something completely different. Instead of a cutting feeling it felt like cotton was passing through her body, and her boiling blood cooled down until she was starting to freeze from the inside. Breathing became a struggle, which she thought was because of the coldness, but would soon discover was because Dolohov’s hand was around her neck.

She wanted to reach for the hand but her wrists were bound. She wanted to scream, but the hand was tightening around her throat, and kept her from making a single sound. All she did was stare up at him with wide eyes, preparing herself for her last moment.

Right before she thought she would pass out, he removed his hand and she was finally able to breathe again. Coughing, she continued to stare at his grinning face, refusing to let him think he had won.

The rape continued while the Death Eaters chanted, louder and louder until Hermione could hear their words, not that the words sounded familiar for her. She didn’t know how long things continued before the table started glowing. For a second she forgot about her situation when the light surrounded her, swallowing her.

The light increased until she was blinded and had to close her eyes. Then suddenly, everything went black.

Slowly she opened her eyes and realised Dolohov was not above her, and the Death Eaters were gone. She tried to move and realised her wrists were no longer tied to the table.

“Stand,” she heard a voice behind her. Against her will she stood, nervously looking around to see who spoke. A movement in the shadow caught her eye, and slowly the person emerged from the darkness into the pale light. Her whole body shook when she saw his red eyes; she wanted to look away, but couldn’t; it was almost like he hypnotised her.

“You are a very special girl, do you know that?” he asked. Hermione wanted to reply, but her voice was gone. He walked closer to her until she could see every detail on his face. The scales, the sharp teeth, the pale skin and the blood veins beneath. “Through you I can control every Muggle-Born on the planet, and that-” he lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with his cold fingers. “That makes you very special.”

-o-

She started trembling, not sure if it was because of his touch or the cold night air. There was movement on her left, but she wasn’t able to turn around and see who it was; not while he was staring at her.

“We have one last thing to do before the night is over,” Voldemort said as he let his nails scrape her skin. Hermione desperately wanted to turn away from his touch, but every time she tried, his eyes kept her still.

The second person stopped behind her, and carefully placed a robe across her shoulders. She was glad some of her body was covered up, but would prefer it if all of her was covered, especially in front of Voldemort. Then the person behind her walked around until she saw who it was, Dolohov.

His smirk sent chills down her body, but it was nothing compared to what Voldemort’s glare did to her. He sent a coldness which travelled deep into her, until she thought she would never feel happiness again, not that she believed it was possible in her situation.

"The ritual, which is complete, works by me using you to control every mudblood in the world, I have the power, but I can't use it without you. This is not how I want things to be, I do not wish to see your ugly face every time I want to control another mudblood. Luckily, I don't have to, not if you willingly give me all of your powers." Hermione didn’t like the thought of handing him all the power, at least if he needed her she might be able to eventually stop him. "If you for some reason think that refusing will save the world, then you're absolutely wrong.” He grabbed her jaw with his long fingers. “If you refuse, we will bring a young child to you every day, and torture the child until you agree to transfer your powers to me."

She knew he was evil, but hearing his plans sent a cold chill through her body and made her sick. "What will be your answer?" he asked in a disturbingly calmed voice. She didn't want a child to suffer, and tried to nod, but was still unable to move. "You're a true Gryffindor. I already know your answer.” He removed his hand from her face and let it fall to his side while watching her. “If you try to do anything to destroy this, ten children will be tortured until they die.”

Dolohov walked up in front of her with a wooden box. They didn’t need to tell her what it was for. She knew it was for the power exchange.

Suddenly, she was able to move again. “Here is all you need for the ritual, everything is written down on a piece of parchment. Don’t try to change anything, I’ll be watching you.” He placed the box down in front of her and took a step back.

Before she did anything, Hermione covered her naked body, hoping she wouldn’t be exposed like that again. Voldemort, she noticed, was pacing while sending short glances at her. Every time she saw his eyes directed at her, the sickness would grow until she feared she might throw up.

“What are you waiting for?” Dolohov asked, cutting through her thoughts. Not wanting to anger him, or Voldemort, she sat down on her knees and opened the box.

Inside was sachets in different sizes and vials containing herbs, everything was neatly named, which did not give her an excuse to pretend she read the labels wrongly. She unfolded the parchment, which lay neatly folded on the side, and read the instructions. It wasn’t an extremely difficult ritual, but it did require a lot of energy, and determination.

She didn’t have a choice, Voldemort wanted her powers, and if she didn’t give them to him young children would suffer.

Carefully, she organized everything in front of her, placing the mortar in front of her and the sachets and vials in chronological order, to make it easier for her. Opening the first sachet, she pulled out a tiny piece of parchment and chalk. Glancing over at the instructions one last time, she took a deep breath and repeated a short spell which gave power to the runes she was writing on the piece of parchment.

When the two runes were written and she ended her second spell, she stared at the ancient letters, Gebo and Ehwaz. The first meant gift or offering, the second transportation, or to send a spell. After placing the parchment in the mortar, she found a bottle of magical fire and tipped it over the parchment. It didn’t take long before the parchment was nothing but ash. Moving over to the second instruction, she lifted the vial containing powdered Mace for increase of psychic and mental power, powdered Ginger Root for success and power, dried Scarlet Pimpernel for change, dried Small Bindweed for humility, and fresh Belladonna for silence. Everything was measured before, which made it easier for her, but not for her cause.

After crushing everything into powder, she placed a Tektite stone in the middle, which had a meaning as well: bringing of power and energy. She then added Cedarwood oil, which, if she wasn’t mistaken, meant power. None of the ingredients surprised her. Every one of them meant either power or exchange of power.

Lifting up a knife, she stared at the blade, wondering if using it to kill herself was a better idea than continuing the ritual. She was of course not able to go through with such an idea, and pressed the sharp blade against the palm of her hand instead, slicing it until fresh blood dripped down in the bowl. Whispering a short spell, she watched the ingredients in the mortar boil, and the open gash on the palm of her hand healed itself.

When the boiling stopped, she mixed everything one last time before lifting her head and stared at Voldemort, who was now walking towards her. There was no way back now, but if she didn’t do as ordered others would suffer, and she didn’t want to be a part of that.

She stood up, and he undressed himself. Luckily he was wearing trousers. No words were spoken between them, there was no need to when both knew what would happen next. Dipping her finger into the mixture, she reached for his chest and started writing while chanting, bringing the magic of the runes to life. On the right side of his chest she wrote Uruz, meaning energy and strength. On his left side she wrote Othila, meaning possession. Between the two runes, she wrote Ansuz, meaning leader, or shaman.

After the runes on his chest, she repeated short spell while touching his eyelids with the mixture, then she touched his forehead, where the third eye is supposed to be. After that she drew three lines on his chin.

She barely ended the spell before he smiled. First she thought everything was over and he had her powers, but then the paint on his chest glowed. Hermione was sure that whatever happened, it would most likely be painful, and it was. Luckily, she was not the only one in pain. Falling down, she screamed loudly while it felt like something was pulling her magic out of her. She couldn’t see since she kept her eyes closed, but she heard Voldemort beside her, screaming.

Voldemort was still screaming when her pain ended. She barely had a chance to think about what she was doing before she stood up and tried to run away from the scene. Unfortunately, Dolohov was there and easily caught her.

“Why are you running?” he asked while she tried to kick him. “Let’s go back, I’m sure he will be so pleased with you that he will let you live.”

“I would rather die!” Hermione screamed.

“You will, but not yet. You see, he promised I could have you after you transferred all of your powers to him.” Dolohov laughed, sending chills down her body.

She knew begging wouldn’t help, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “I don’t want to live anymore. Kill me!”

This time it was Voldemort who answered. “You will not be murdered in any way, I promised Dolohov a girl, a pet, and you are that pet. He will do with you as he sees fit.”

“Hear that little one? You’re mine. My little dog.” Hermione stopped fighting when her vision was blurred with tears, and her body shook from tiredness and exhaustion.

“Your tears will get you nothing,” Voldemort coldly remarked before he dressed himself.

“Did it work, my Lord?” Dolohov asked.

Voldemort was quiet for a few seconds before a smile spread across his face. “Yes.”


End file.
